


A Little Late

by SoMuchDepends



Category: Anne of Green Gables - L. M. Montgomery
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Awkward Public Proposal, Awkwardness, F/M, Modern but in character, Slow Burn, try not to cringe challenge
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-06
Updated: 2018-09-03
Packaged: 2019-06-22 14:34:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 4,689
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15584043
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SoMuchDepends/pseuds/SoMuchDepends
Summary: Gilbert Blythe is a little late to a party. But when he crashes into an unexpected pair at a crucial moment, he realizes being on time is overrated. Well, he realizes that for the most part, at least.





	1. Chapter 1

Gilbert Blythe, newly-minted college graduate, was running a little late.

Redmond was hosting a graduation celebration for all the fresh graduates so Gil had returned to his apartment to change for the event. He had just lain down on his bed when the clamor of graduation day overcame him, and he had fallen asleep.

When he awoke, azure light filed his tiny, nearly-empty bedroom.

He checked his watch; the graduation bash had begun 15 minutes earlier.

In a panicked daze, Gil stumbled from his bed and tripped around his room, shrugging into a sports coat and slipping on a pair of his nicer tennis shoes.

Sliding into the bathroom, Gil splashed his face with perpetually lukewarm tap water and stared at his disheveled reflection. His curly brown hair looked positively slept-in and his white button-down twisted strangely from his nap.

Sighing, Gil closed his eyes and leaned his forehead against the mirror. Flashes of soft white flowers and auburn hair played in his mind, and Gil smiled despite the familiar sense of dread pooling in his gut.

"I can do this," Gil said, pulling back from the mirror and exiting his cramped bathroom. "I can do this."

Moments later, Gil was down on the street outside his apartment building, and he strode toward the historic dance hall venue.

The twilight sky calmed his rapid heartbeats as he neared Redmond's historic district.

As he turned past an old stone church, the echoes of approaching laughter and chatter met Gil. Two familiar women approached Gil a few hundred yards down the sidewalk. He and the pair were roughly equidistant from the intersection across from the hall and would undoubtedly meet at the crosswalk.

One woman sported a creamy yellow and was gesturing animatedly, while the other wore a floating pink dress and seemed rather tense. Her hand clutched desperately at her neck, and she seemed absorbed in whatever her companion was saying.

As he neared the pair, the woman in yellow locked eyes with him. Her body stiffened, and her gestures and words halted as she lightly elbowed her friend in the side.

Her friend jerked her gaze to his own, and Gil felt his stomach drop as her lovely gray eyes met his.

Anne Shirley.

In a beautiful, pastel dress.

On a beautiful, pastel night.

"Gilbert Blythe," Philippa Gordon's teasing voice called. "How are you doing? Horribly late to the party wouldn't you say?"

"Ah," Gil mumbled before his mind fired smoothly again. "If I'm horribly late, what does that make you?"

"Fashionably late," Phil rallied, stopping at the crosswalk and waiting for Gil to meet them. "Because I'm always fashionable and you're always horrible."

"Never change, Phil," Gil laughed, Phil's perpetual snark calming his nerves—to some extent. "Well, change your last name in a few months, but that's it. How's the wedding planning coming along?"

"Oh, it's quite a challenge, actually," Phil said, chewing her lip in frustration as she pressed the crosswalk button. "I never was notably decisive—as all present will recall Alec and Alonzo—but I thought I had gotten quite better at making decisions! I chose Jonas, after all! But when you're staring at fourteen different shades of blush while eating six different flavors of cake, it gets a little difficult to choose."

"Especially when you're as opinionated as Phi," Anne said, her quiet voice breaking into the conversation for the first time.

With her arms still constricted around her, Anne leaned against a nearby lamppost, offset from Phil and Gil. A slight, wry smile lit her face, but she kept her eyes fixed across the street on the twinkling lights of their collective destination. Gil took the opportunity to observe her appearance more freely than he had in years. Her twisted, slouching posture indicated her discomfiture matched his own, and he could nearly hear Rachel Lynde's voice screeching "to stop leaning against that filthy pole and stand up straight."

A slight smile, much like Anne's, curved on Gil's own face, and for a moment, the world slowed in the calm blue night.

Until Anne turned her head and met his eyes.

Gil snapped his gaze away—and Phil's chattering voice re-amplified in his distracted mind.

"Of course, Anne's right," Phil laughed, gesturing to her housemate. "I'm much too opinionated for someone who can't actually decide on anything! I can't even tell you what wedding dress shopping was like. I had the strongest opinions on every dress, and it took me several trips before I could choose the one I most loved!"

"It certainly did," Anne added, pushing off the post and nodding her head at the flashing, traffic signal.

The group crossed the street and began hiking the stonework steps of the party's venue. The pale blue twilight darkened into deep blue night as the friends ascended, and Gil sensed a distinct, ominous mood fall with the night.

Brushing off that feeling, Gil skipped up the last few steps and swung the door open for the two women.

"Ah, thank you, good sir," Phil said, bowing her head ceremoniously and disappearing inside the venue.

"Gladly, my lady," Gil called after her. "And you as well, Queen Anne."

Anne's eyes met his as she reached the door, and Gil felt his pulse increase at her soft, gray gaze.

"Thank you, Gil," Anne said, her voice quiet and more relaxed.

Gil nodded politely as Anne's small figure began to pass him.

Just before she disappeared after Phil, Anne finally unwound her tense arms from her body.

In the instant she did, Gil saw an opaque glimmer drop against the white skin of her neck.

A thin, silver chain circled her neck, and a delicate pink heart hung in the indent of her clavicle.

And Gil felt his rapid heart pause in shock as Anne disappeared into the hall.


	2. Chapter 2

Gilbert Blythe extricated himself from a group of friends and wove through the party's bustling crowd. Ostensibly, he needed to refill his champagne glass at the refreshment table near the back of the hall. However, a glimmer of auburn, which also circled the refreshment table, lured him far more than the sparkling liquid.

As he ducked acquaintances and professors he knew he'd never see again, he felt the unnerving weight of doom this particular party carried. Change lay in wait for every last graduate, and Gil felt as if they were all jovially toasting to an impending disaster. His spirits evened out into introspective contentment as the unshakeable melancholy of the party blended with the frantic buzz of champagne.

Gil reached the drink table in this mood, and he felt a distinct, familiar presence near him. This presence, which he had been quietly tracking all night, hovered gently beside him as he procured a fresh glass. He veiled his countenance with indifference as he turned to face the woman beside him.

Anne Shirley, a vision in cloudy pink, stood next to him swirling a quarter-full glass of champagne in her hand. A half smile crept across her face as she met his eyes, and he felt another wave of doom wash over him.

Long ago, Gilbert had accepted his position with Anne to be irrevocably predestined. He could run, he could fight, he could stand unwavering, but fate dominated the relationship between them. Without any regard to what he or Anne wanted.

His eyes skimmed over her as the pair stood in silence, and that damned pink heart shone opaquely as it hung about her neck. The charm had caught his eye as he window shopped along the streets of downtown Redmond during the Christmas season. His ill-fated, grade-school attempt to win Anne over with a chalky, pink candy heart flashed in his memory, and he promptly bought the gift and sent it off to Green Gables without a second thought. Gil could hardly fathom from where his holiday-fueled boldness arose, but he knew that necklace belonged to Anne the moment he saw it, and he simply had to get it to her. Now, his mind flurried with possibilities explaining why she wore the charm he recklessly gifted her those few months ago.

Perhaps she forgot he gave it to her.

Perhaps the necklace simply matched the dress she had chosen for the event.

Perhaps she still loved….

"I suppose you've got quite a line of girls waiting to dance with you," her sweet voice tamed his wild thoughts. "I wouldn't want to monopolize your valuable time with just silent standing."

"Oh, well, now that we're standing and talking," Gil replied, their old back-and-forth resuming with painfully quick ease. "I suppose I can afford to waste some of the commodity that is my time and my dancing skills.

"It's good to know that I can distract you by simply talking about talking," Anne answered, a smile fully forming on her face.

"Most anything you do could distract me, Anne," Gil said without any of his better judgement. "Just ask Miss Stacy if I answered a single question the year we were in her class together! I was too worried about convincing you to be my friend to answer any questions about geography or algebra."

Gil desperately appealed to humor and the beloved Miss Stacey, hoping Anne would ignore the first part of his ill-timed, sentimental statement. Thankfully, she smiled and swallowed the remnants of her champagne.

"Oh, Gil," Anne smiled, her use of his old nickname causing his lungs to burn. "I don't know what to do with you."

"You could dance with me," Gil said quickly, cursing himself for the second time for speaking without thinking. "That is, if you're not already engaged…."

"Oh, no," Anne began, her cheeks rosily staining as she took a sweeping glance about the room. "Roy's tangled up with some professor of his about a job opportunity so I should have some open dances."

Anne's casual reference to her long-time boyfriend quelled the hope given by her smiling acceptance of his offer to dance. Gil downed the rest of his champagne and guided Anne out onto the dance floor as a slow, nostalgic tune echoed over the crowd.

Two years ago, before that fateful, gloomy night behind Patty's Place, Gil had escorted Anne to most Redmond parties and dances, and both he and Anne had grown accustomed to the murmuring gossip. He could still hear the fellow partygoers' whispers and fell the peering glances as he danced with the beautiful, English major. Back then, his potential relationship with Anne had been the topic of much interest and an assumed eventuality.

However, much had changed since then.

Now, there was Roy.

Now, there was so much pain and loss.

Now, there was so much time between the two childhood friends.

And now, there hadn't been a dance between Anne Shirley and Gilbert Blythe in two years.

So when Gil led Anne out onto the dance floor—his hands shaking around her waist and her cheeks the color of her pink, heart-shaped necklace—it piqued the interest of their class, all together for the very last time.


	3. Chapter 3

Gilbert Blythe could remember every detail of his very first dance with Anne Shirley. One late summer evening at some AVIS event, he had broken past her crowd of friends and abruptly asked her to dance. Surprised, she accepted, but Gil sensed her trepidation as he led her onto the backyard dance floor in Diana Barry's apple orchard.

In her nervousness, she had said hardly two words to him during the three minute song. But Gil hadn't minded the lack of conversation in the slightest. His mind was preoccupied with other things, anyway.

The feel of pale pink cotton in his hands as he held her waist.

The faint smell of rosemary perfuming her auburn hair.

The nervous gleam of closeness in her gray eyes.

The sweet blossoms and leaves floating above them in the gray-blue sky.

The distinct slowing of the world around him.

And now, as he danced with his old friend at the graduation party, he realized how little had changed at all. He and Anne swayed to a slow, quiet song; neither speaking. Pink cotton wrapped her waist, and his hand rested lightly on the cool, pastel fabric.

The world slowed around them, and Gil broke his hazel gaze from Anne's for a moment. All around, their peers surveyed the estranged couple with curious eyes. Fellow dancers stalled in their motions, and outlying groups stilled their conversations mid-sentence. The attention of the entire party turned to the silent couple, and a murmur of interested conjecture washed over the crowd.

Once again, the world slowed around him.

Gil refocused on his partner, determined to make the most of this rarity. Her flushed cheeks and nervous gaze transformed Gil into his timid teenage self. So much hope and happiness filled his spirits. Every rational thought drowned in his hazy contentment. The pain of the last two years melted away as he pulled Anne closer. His movement spurred her into conversation.

"Do you remember the first time we danced together, Gil?" Anne whispered, her voice too quiet for their spectators to hear.

"How could I forget?" Gil laughed. "It was such a thawing moment in our relationship! I remember everything."

"Everything?" Anne said, her lips pulling into a playful smirk. "So, of course, you remember when—just as the song ended—you stepped on the hem of my dress and ripped a hole in it?"

"Oh! I had completely forgotten about that part!" Gil smiled, his rosy memory turning yellow with laughter. "I remember your dress was pink— like tonight—and we were in Di's orchard. The sky was blue as the Lake of Shining Waters, the air was clear, and the song was lovely. I guess I only remembered the good parts—not the awful ones."

"I only remember the good parts, too," Anne whispered, her words full of some meaning Gil couldn't quite decipher. "None of it was awful."

"Well, I'm sure Anne of fifteen years would disagree with the Anne of twenty-two years on that," Gil said, bringing Anne a breath closer. "But both past and present Gil appreciate the sentiment, at any rate. By the way, I'm glad to see my gift has gotten some wear."

He nodded at the pink charm around her neck.

"Oh," Anne blushed. "Yes, well, it matched rather perfectly with this dress so it seemed meant to be—for tonight, at least."

"Meant to be?" Gil asked, eyebrows raised.

"For tonight," Anne clarified, her voice tinted with Marilla-like sternness.

Gil grinned, and his gaze swept over the still-curious crowd. His eyes connected with Phil's, and her light brown eyes flashed with both uncontrolled excitement and concern. Her gaze broke from his and turned to a member of the crowd. Gil followed her line of sight to a tall, dark presence—who was watching the red head in his arms intensely.

Roy Gardiner.

And Gil felt the night shift—his hazy, comfortable memories melted away and the piercing eyes of the onlookers burned.

His eyes met Roy's, and the two men reached a silent understanding in an instant. As the song faded out, Gil knew he needed to grasp the remaining, quiet moments he had with the woman in his arms. Because, from the look in Roy's eyes, Gil knew this might be his very last dance with Anne Shirley.


	4. Chapter 4

Gilbert Blythe couldn't remember a time when he ever ran away from a challenge.

He could remember being four-years old and hiking the kitchen drawers to retrieve a brownie his mother had taken from him and placed on the counter.

He could remember being eight-years old and swallowing a goldfish because Charlie Sloane dared him to do it.

He could remember being 13-years old and pursuing a pale, red-haired girl who blatantly ignored him.

Gilbert Blythe had always seemed genetically predisposed to fight for what he wanted.

But, now, the dark flash in Roy Gardiner's eyes was a challenge Gil no longer had the energy to face.

Surely, a past version of himself would've fought.

Fought the pretentious, tall man who wove toward him in the crowd.

Fought for the right to dance with the beautiful woman in his arms.

Fought for one more chance….  
But not anymore.

The song scoring his last dance with Anne Shirley ended with one minor, reverberating chord. And Gil quickly wavered backward from her. He had underestimated how close they'd drawn together.

"Goodnight, Anne," Gil said quietly, barely meeting her eyes before turning in the opposite direction of Roy.

"Gil," Anne's plaintive voice pierced the ephemeral peace of the dance hall.

The music had stopped as the band shuffled between songs, and Gil realized the whole of Redmond was still watching them intently.

At her whisper of his name, Gil paused in his retreat. He could feel her warm gaze entreating him to turn around and meet the challenge. The Gil of their youth would have taken the bait and fought. Could he still be that rebellious, headstrong boy under his world-weary countenance?

"Anne?"

Gil's heart clenched at the sound of her name in a deep, liquid tone.

Roy's questioning voice broke the momentary resolve in Gil's mind. The reality of Roy Gardiner dashed any wild hope in his heart. He had overheard those whispers across Redmond. Roy in a jeweler's picking over garish diamonds. Anne's friends shoving her into nail salons every week on the off-chance it might be the day.

He couldn't bear the thought of it.

He couldn't bear any of it anymore.

He was exhausted. He had never backed down from a challenge. Especially not when it came to Anne.

But after nine years of chasing and maneuvering and begging, he was too tired to fight anymore.

So he resumed his retreat.

He wanted to be home. Away from the prying eyes of Redmond. Far from the image of Anne in her blasted, pink gown. Deep in a dreamless, and nightmare-less, sleep.

But, as he stepped through the hoard, he noticed his peers hadn't budged an inch. Though the band now strummed a romantic ballad, his spectating classmates remained fixed. He glanced upward and saw a divided crowd. Half the party turned facing Anne, total surprise blooming in their eyes.

And the other half….

The other half faced him, a distinct, horrified pity stricken across their countenances. Phil's chestnut eyes met his once more; her gaze burst with empathy and warning and sadness.

Gil almost couldn't stomach turning around.

The band strummed a lush, romantic tune that sounded so hostile now.

Roy's questioning inflection of Anne's name suddenly felt significant.

Slowly, he turned to face the tableau he so desperately wished to escape.

In the middle of the crowd, Anne stood, her back to him.

Her pale, gauzy dress caught the dim lantern light with ethereal shimmer. Her auburn hair burned with same intensity he recalled from their very first meeting.

But of all the interest Anne's appearance piqued, nothing caught his attention more than Roy's dark figure standing before her.

Or, kneeling, really, before her.

A gaudy sparkle flickered in Roy's outstretched hand, and his mouth moved with confidence and slight smugness.

Gil felt the bubbling champagne in his gut sour and rise in his throat. His knees buckled under his abruptly-amplified weight. Rapid breaths seared his lungs, and swift agony clenched his heart.

For once in his life, Gilbert Blythe's body screamed for surrender, and he had never been more inclined to comply.


	5. Chapter 5

The Monday following graduation, Gil awoke in Avonlea on threadbare quilts in his childhood bedroom. His body ached from travel and excitement and stress. But as he awoke, the smell of frying eggs and pancakes downstairs made at least his stomach ache slightly less. The Avonlea sun streamed in through his window, and the sounds of soft, spring wind rushed outside. Despite the familiarity of the scene, Gil still felt uncomfortable to his core. He wished home felt as right as it had before.

But then again, nothing felt right since the night of graduation. And Gil suspected nothing would ever feel completely right again—no matter how long he waited. In his deepest corner of his heart, he had always believed a certain truth. And that belief had become a part of himself as much as his hazel eyes or curly brown hair. And that belief was recently disproven with a tiny, little ring.

The smells of home faded into the sweet smells of champagne and perfume as his clearest memory replayed in his mind. The moment he turned around and saw Roy Gardiner kneeling before Anne Shirley, Gil knew a piece of his life shattered. He felt the stunned eyes of Redmond's graduating class switch from him to Anne to Roy. He had never felt so pitied in his life. He had never felt so incredibly sick to his core. He had never felt more like running.

Anne stood as frozen as he, but then she tilted her head almost imperceptibly to the left. It was as if she wanted to look at him but quickly decided better of it.

And that moment was all he needed. Gil knew he must leave before he did something truly embarrassing in front of the entire party. The crowd's murmurings and the band's soft music registered in his mind again as he walked to the door. The scene had so overcome him, all he had heard was a blaring white noise—as if he had fallen from a tree or been kicked in the stomach. He needed to be away, as far as possible from this place. As he reached the door, he heard the only thing that could crush him more.

Despite his swift retreat and near out-of-body experience, Roy's blastedly deep and resonant voice reached his ears.

"Anne Shirley, will you marry me?"

Gil shook the memory from his mind desperately as he sat in his childhood bedroom. He slowly rose from the squeaky spring mattress and dressed for the day.

He hadn't told his parents everything that happened on graduation night, but he suspected they knew. Word always travelled quickly where Avonlea and it's residents were concerned. Gil almost couldn't look his family in the eye. He had played his part valiantly over the years—pretending to be unaffected by the gossip surrounding Anne—but he knew they knew. He wasn't an actor or an idiot after all. It seemed he couldn't even fool anyone, judging by the saddened looks of his peers at the party.

He descended the narrow, wooden stairs of the old farmhouse and sat down at the warped dining room table. His mother was already seated, and she gave him a soft smile. His father entered the room carrying two plates full of eggs and pancakes.

"Thanks, Dad," Gil said softly. "You always did make the best pancakes. I've really missed them over the years."

"You look too skinny," his mother said with classic concern. "I know you've been working hard, but there's always time to eat something, dear."

"I know, Mom," Gil said and turned his eyes down wistfully. "There's just been a lot going on recently."

"We know, Gil," his dad said quietly.

At his father's gentle reassurance, Gil felt a tiny bit of normalcy return.

Maybe some things could get better, still.


	6. Chapter 6

Gilbert Blythe stayed to himself during his first week back in Avonlea. He kept to his childhood bedroom, ate home cooked meals and rarely strayed beyond the white-washed fence surrounding his parents’ farm. In fact, when he did pass the fence, he only trekked the quarter mile to the mailbox at the road.

He kept so close to home because he couldn’t fathom running into anyone right now. All of Avonlea seemed thoroughly briefed on Gil’s love life, and he couldn’t bear the pitying eyes and gossip of his hometown. 

Gil’s stomach also dropped at the thought of seeing _her_. Though he hadn’t the slightest idea if she was even home, he couldn’t risk it. He needed to work her out of his system. He needed to stop replaying his last memory of her again and again and again. Seeing her now would send him spiraling. 

He hadn’t checked any of his social pages since the party. He hadn’t opened any texts from their mutual friends. He hadn’t even opened the Redmond email with graduation pictures attached. For the first time in a decade, Gilbert Blythe wasn’t going to think about Anne Shirley, talk about Anne Shirley or even glance at Anne Shirley. His mother and father were respectfully avoiding the subject, and for a week, Gil lived in his carefully curated world.

However, on one of his trips to the mailbox, Gil’s Anne-less world was disrupted.

When he opened the mailbox on a hazy Monday afternoon, Gil sifted through the letters with a whistle. Electric bill. Water bill. A book of coupons for the new grocery store in town. 

His tune faded, however, when he saw an envelope addressed to himself in a familiar handwriting. He ripped the envelope open and pulled out a beautifully designed invitation.

“Along with their families, Philippa Gordon and Jonas Blake invite you to their wedding,” Gil whispered to himself. “On June 15 at 6 p.m. at the Kingsport Country Club.”

Gil flipped the invitation over and saw one line scrawled on the back.

_Dear Gil, I hope you’re doing better than when I last saw you. Please come. Please try again. Yours, Phil_

Despite his careful defenses, the memory of Phil’s worried eyes flashed into his mind. Then, the taste of stale champagne. Then, the shock of seeing Roy on one knee. Then, the twist of his heart as she slowly turned....

He hated Phil in this moment and for the first time. With her invitation, she reopened a wound that had only begun knitting itself together. He couldn’t go to her wedding, of course! It’d be crawling with Redmond folks, all firsthand witnesses of the worst night of his life. It’d be full of whispers and unwanted reassurances. It’d be a beautiful celebration of something he would never have now. It’d have Anne! 

“Surely, Anne has to be in Phil’s bridal party,” Gil thought, his heart pounding as he nearly sprinted back to his home. “I can’t sit there and watch her in her beautiful dress with her beautiful ring….”

He opened the front door, threw the irrelevant mail on the entry table and climbed the stairs to his room two at a time. Once he reached his room, he hopped on his bed and looked over the invitation again.

_Please try again._

What did Phil mean? How could she possibly tell him to try again? He’d never stopped trying for ten years! How could she be so cruel?

_Please try again._

Gil flipped the card. If he could avoid the wedding party and guests other than the big day, Kingsport would be a welcome relief from the constant reminders of Avonlea. He could relax and take a break—one last vacation before medical school began in the fall. 

“But it’s too big a risk,” Gil thought, picking at a loose thread on his quilt. “Are four days of relief worth one huge, painful event?”

_Please try again._

He flipped the card back over and looked at her upright, friendly script. Phil wouldn’t encourage him hopelessly, would she? She had been indecisive, perhaps, but never cruel.

_Please try again._

He flipped the card, and his eyes scanned the tiny print at the bottom. Gil reached under his bed and pulled out his laptop case. He opened his computer and pulled up the website listed at the bottom.

“This is…is not a good idea,” Gil whispered to himself as he clicked on the RSVP tab in the navigation bar. “I can’t go…. I can’t!”

With some force, Gil shut his laptop case and stared at the card next to him.

_Please try again._

Gil sighed and tried to think of every reason why he shouldn’t go.

And after a few minutes, he reopened his laptop, typed in his name and clicked “Going.”


End file.
